


Sweet home Alabama, indeed.

by Vimeow



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Crack, Drabble, Masturbation, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-01
Updated: 2015-12-01
Packaged: 2018-05-04 07:03:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5324942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vimeow/pseuds/Vimeow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>so uh<br/>me and a friend kind of thought of this at 3am<br/>don't blame me blame the entirety of country music</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweet home Alabama, indeed.

"What the fuck did ya do?!"  
Scout gawked at the previously silver toaster, now a smoky tone of burnt to shit.

Pyro shrugged.  
They saw nothing wrong with this change.

He prodded the dead machinery with a very cautious spatula, two burnt pieces of used-to-be-toast crumbled, throwing a puff of ash up and out the open window. Scouts displeasure grew as he watched the cloud go, glancing back at the fucked up prongs at the end of the wire. So, what like? No toast? What the fuck? No??  
How do you fix something ruined????  
Engineer.  
That's how you do.

With this simple and seemingly foolproof line of thought, Scout set off.  
Pyro still felt that he was still blowing this out of proportion, they'd made it better, dangit.  
Scout gave the toaster a tentative poke to getting a feel for the temperature so he wouldn't have to visit Medic, too. Still warm to the touch the toaster was on its way to ERT (Engineer Repair This), soot from the toaster smudged onto Scouts fingers and wrapped palms, returning its outer glory in return for the stain it'd leave.  
This toaster is an asshole, man.  
Destination in mind, Scout bounded away damaged parcel in his hands.  
Pyro watched him go, well, damn, time to restart. Make perfection once more. They opened a lower cupboard pulling out the backup toaster, setting it on the counter.

Meanwhile Scout bounced to a semi halt in front of Engineers door, his blackened hand already on the doorknob when he noticed something that made him pause, and lets face it that's a feat in itself.  
He leaned his ear closer to the crack of the door and the sound became far more clear.

SWEET HOME ALABAMA. LORD I'M COMING HOME TO YOU.

holy shit. oh fucking god, Scout rolled his eyes so hard he swore he was near to bursting a blood vessel behind his eyes.  
Fucking Texans, and their country shit. Scout instantly decided to bless Engineer with his awesome music taste. Help the less fortunate, those of lesser caliber than he. Because Scout is a team player, hell, he was more of a team player than his entire team. He had to show them what they were doing completely wrong.

Twisting the knob he leaned his weight into it, for a more grand entrance.  
He practiced this don't laugh.

The door swung open and Scout was off like a greyhound.  
"Okay we get it you screw tumbleweeds, but listen up, I'll show you some real music, I bet you've never heard of Emine-"  
A greyhound that just hit a brick wall.

Engineer was there. yes. but so was his dick.  
His free hand held a vague magazine, the cover plastered with bright red "COUNTRY TODAY" if it helps any, he was looking at the banjo section. Scout had made a grand entrance into a rather personal situation  
Engineer didn't even make a move to take his hand off of it either maybe to cover it? who knows shit about dicks, honestly.  
There was a very very uncomfortable not-silence, as Lynyrd Skynyrd sang loudly to both of them, (not including the dick, the dick is not sentient). The amount of eye contact was surreal, lasting a good 10 seconds if not more.

Scout took a step back and slammed the door shut.  
Okay, forget toast.

**Author's Note:**

> I'll see myself out now.
> 
> //steps into a pit straight to hell


End file.
